It feels sort of weird releasing this post on my blog because I actually wrote the bulk of it over 6 months ago and then sat on it, my heart still aching. And now when I read it I feel rather odd, as though that girl wasn’t me and I’m trying to connect with a person I no longer recognise.

But I guess that just goes to show that time is (in most cases) a healer and parts of you can change forever.

That being said I still remember the feeling that washed over me the moment my boyfriend uttered the words “I can’t do this anymore”.

I actually smashed one of his glass awards on the floor. And then some of the glass bounced up and cut my leg. Massive f*cking fail.

Weeks of torment with an ever apparent distance growing between us had resulted in my soul being plagued with anxiety and to then be told he was leaving felt like love’s ultimate betrayal. So ya know, throwing things seemed like a great idea at the time. And I wasn’t going to throw something of mine now was I.

I was broken and what ensued was torture. It felt as though I was being tormented by every single bloody experience we’d ever shared together and that feeling of hopelessness occasionally haunts me even now.

Every person who has endured a broken heart knows what I’m talking about. And if you’re reading this with one right now then I salute you because you are a friggin champion. Hang on in there.

But here’s the interesting thing…

Five days after my Rocky incident I was sent home from work, a shadow of my normal bubbly self and dreading what I was about to walk into; an apartment filled with memories of something I’d once treasured. Because that was the day he had taken all of his stuff and moved out.

And yet as I made my journey home avoiding the radio in case Adele came on and made me want to veer my car off the road, something in the right lane up ahead caught my attention.

A red car with my initials as the first part of the license plate.

Of all the times I could have been sent home from work, of one of three routes I could have chosen to take, in that exact second I had looked up and glimpsed those three letters.

And in that instant I knew that I would be ok. I was EXACTLY where I was supposed to be at that point in my life, shit feelings and all.

If we’re open to signs from the universe we see them frequently.

We can make a conscious choice to not be blinkered by fact and remove the urge to see everything as black and white or we can ignore the olive branches that come our way. Children see the world differently to adults – what’s stopping us from doing the same?

I can count on the one hand the number of times I have seen the breed of dog my parents own since moving to Australia and I can assure you that each time I have I felt home sick. Every single time.

Coincidence? Perhaps. And if you see it that way that’s ok. Maybe it’s not something you believe in or even think remotely possible – it’s not like we see unicorns every day or ride dragons to work. My dragon would be called Flame just FYI.

But let me ask you this…

If you were at the point in life where something or someone had caused you pain and you received a reassuring nudge from an unexplained force, even for just a second, wouldn’t you gladly accept it?

Something extraordinary gave us the gift of life. What’s to say it doesn’t want to lend a helping hand every now and then too?